"Yes," said Habermann, "that is understood. Frau Pastorin, the rent must be raised; times are better, but there will be no difficulty in the matter,--the advantage lies on both sides."
"Regina," said her Pastor, "it occurs to me that the flowers at the end of the garden have not been watered."
"Ah, my dear life!" cried the Pastorin, and bustled out of the door, "the flowers!"
"So," said the Pastor, "now we can soon settle it. I must confess to you, that I prefer to have a renter from outside, rather than one belonging to the place; there are so many little differences which spring from such immediate neighborhood, and make such a relation so doubtful and annoying, as it ought not to be between landlords and ministers. And the Kammerrath is personally much dearer to me than the new owner,--I have known him so many years. And you think I may demand a higher rent?"
"Yes, indeed, Herr Pastor, and I am authorized to offer you the half more. If I wished to rent the land myself, I could offer you still more; but----"
"We understand each other, dear Habermann," said the Pastor, "we are agreed in the matter."
And when the Frau Pastorin again bustled in with the little Louise, and cried out, "It was not necessary! Louise had already attended to the matter!" then was her Pastor's business all settled, and the dear little Louise hung around her father's neck: "Ah, father, father, that is so good!" Why should she hang about her father's neck? What had she to do with rent-contracts? Much, much! Her father would now be a little nearer to the Pastor's garden, ploughing and harvesting, and she should see him the oftener.
As Habermann went back through the church-yard, he met Zachary Bräsig, who had passed happily, out of his dreadfully unphilosophical stage of the gout, into the philosophical, as generally happened when his troubles were over. "Good-day, Karl," said he, "I have been in your quarters a while waiting for you. But the time seemed long, so I made my compliments, meanwhile, to the Herr Kammerrath. He was very glad to see me, and treated me with the greatest kindness; but how the man looks!"
Yes, said Habermann, his master had--God bless him--grown very old and weak, and he for his part feared he was soon to lose the friend he esteemed so highly.
"Yes," nodded Bräsig, "but what is life, Karl? What is human life? See here, Karl, turn it over and over, like a leather money-bag, and not a shilling falls out."
"Bräsig," said Habermann, "I don't know what other people think about it, but it seems to me as if life and labor were one and the same."
"Ho, ho, Karl! now I hear you run on; you got that sentence from Pastor Behrens. He has sometimes talked with me on this subject, and he has given me a description of human life, as if here below it was merely the manuring time, and the Christian belief was the sun and the rain, which made the seed grow, and there above, in the upper regions, came the harvest; but man must work, and take pains and do his part. But Karl, it don't agree, it goes against the Bible. The Bible tells about the lilies of the field; they toil not, and they spin not, and yet our Heavenly Father cares for them. And if our Lord takes care of them, then they live, and they don't labor, and when I have this infamous gout and do nothing,--nothing at all but hunt away the cursed, tormenting flies from my face,--is that labor? and yet I live under the good-for-nothing torture. And Karl," said he, and pointed to the right across the field, "see those two lilies, that are picking their way over here, your gracious Herr Lieutenant, and the youngest Fräulein, have you ever heard that the lieutenant of cuirassiers troubled himself with labor, or that the gracious Fräulein did any spinning? And yet they are both coming, with living bodies, over your rape-stubble."
"Will you wait a moment, Zachary?" said Habermann; "they are coming in this direction, possibly they wish to speak to us."
"For all me!" said Bräsig. "But just look at the Fräulein, how she wades through the rape-stubble with her long skirts and her thin shoes! No, Karl, life is trouble! And it begins always with the extremities, with the legs, and you may observe that with me from my confounded gout, and in the case of the Fräulein by the rape-stubble and her thin shoes. But what I was going to say, Karl--you have had your best time here, for when the Herr Kammerrath is dead, there look out! You will be astonished at the gracious lady, and the three unmarried daughters, and the Herr Lieutenant. Karl," he began again, after a little thought, "I would hold to the crown-prince."
"Eh, what! Bräsig, what are you talking about?" said Habermann, hastily, "I shall go right on my way."
"Yes, Karl, so should I, and so would every body who was not a Jesuit. But look at the gracious Fräulein once more! She goes right on her way too, but through the rape-stubble. Karl----" But the young people were too near, he could say no more; only in an aside he added, "A Jesuit? No! But he is a vocative."
"I thank you, Herr Habermann, that you have waited here for me," said Axel von Rambow, as they came up. "My sister and I are bound on two different expeditions; she is seeking corn-flowers, and I colts; she has found no corn-flowers, and I no colts."
"Gracious lady," said Bräsig, "if you mean by corn-flowers our common field blossoms,--but," he interrupted himself, "how this infamous stubble has ruined your pretty dress, all the flounces torn off!" and with that he bent down as if he would render the young lady the service of a maid.
"No matter!" cried the Fräulein, drawing back a little, "it is an old dress. But where are the corn-flowers?"
"I will show you,--it is a real pleasure,--here close by, near Gurlitz, corn-flowers, and scarlet-runners, and white-thorn, and thistle-blows,--in short, a whole plantation."
"That will do nicely, dear Fidelia," said the lieutenant. "You go with the Herr Inspector Bräsig for the corn-flowers, and I beg Herr Habermann to accompany me to see the colts. For, do you know," said he to Habermann, "my good old papa was in such a good humor this morning, that he has given me permission to select the best of the four-year-old colts for my own use.
"I will show you the animals with pleasure," said Habermann, "there are some fine fellows, among them."
So the two companies separated, and Habermann only heard further how Bräsig said to the Fräulein Fidelia he was very glad to make her acquaintance, because he had once had a dog which was also named, "Fidèle," and she was a famous rat-catcher!
Habermann went with the Herr Lieutenant toward the colt-paddock. They talked together, naturally about farming matters,--the lieutenant was a lively young fellow, and Habermann had known him from childhood,--but the man had learned nothing about them, all his views were too far beyond, and none of his questions were to the point, so that Habermann said to himself, "He is good natured, very good-natured, but he knows nothing, and yet--God bless him--when the old Herr is gone, he must take the estate, and make his living off it!"
As they were come to the paddock, and had mustered the colts, the lieutenant placed himself before Habermann, and asked, "Now, what do you say? which shall I take?"
"The brown," said Habermann.
"I would rather choose the black. Look at the beautiful neck, the fine head!"
"Herr von Rambow," said Habermann, "you don't ride on head and neck, you ride on back and legs; you want a horse for use, and the brown is worth three of the black."
"There seems to be English blood in the black."
"That is true, he is descended from Wildfire; but there is old Mecklenburg blood in the brown, and it is a shame that one should let that go,--that one should not value the good which the fatherland offers, and exchange them for English racers."
"That may be true," said Axel, "but in our regiment my comrades have only black horses,--I decide for the black."
That was a reason which Habermann did not rightly understand, so he was silent, and as they went back, the conversation was a little one-sided; but as they were near the house--right before the door, as if he had spared himself to the last moment--the lieutenant held back the inspector, and with a deep sigh, as if he would shake off a burden from his heart, he said, "Habermann, I have long wished to speak to you privately. Habermann, I have debts,--you must help me! It is nine hundred dollars that I must pay, I must have it."
That was a hard request for Habermann, but in truly serious business, age makes itself respected; he looked the young man of three-and-twenty full in the face, and said shortly, "Herr von Rambow, I cannot do it."
"Habermann, dear Habermann, I have such pressing need of the money."
"Then you must tell your father."
"My father? No, no! He has already paid debts for me, and now he is sick, it would vex him too much."
"Still you must tell him. Such business must not be done with strange people, it should be settled between father and son."
"Strange people?" asked Axel, and looked him so beseechingly and affectionately in the eye, "Habermann, am I then so strange to you?"
"No, Herr von Rambow, no!" cried Habermann, and grasped after the young man's hand, but did not reach it. "You are not strange to me. Anything that Icoulddo for you, I would do quickly. The matter itself is a little thing, and if I could not do it alone, my friend Bräsig would help me out; but dear Herr von Rambow, your father is your natural helper, this step ought not to be delayed."
"I cannot tell my father," said Axel, plucking at a willow-bush.
"Youmusttell him," said Habermann as impressively as he could. "He suspects that you have concealed debts from him, and it troubles him."
"Has he spoken to you about it?"
"Yes, but only in consequence of his own great embarrassment, which is known to you."
"I know," said Axel, "and I know also the spring at which he has pumped. Well, what my father does, I can do also," added he coldly and shortly, and went in at the court-yard gate.
"Herr von Rambow," cried Habermann, and followed him hastily, "I beseech you, for heaven's sake, not to take this course; it will be in vain, or it will only plunge you into greater difficulty."
Axel did not listen.
A couple of hours later, the Lieutenant von Rambow stood with Moses among the woolsacks and the hides in the entry of the Jew's house,--where David had his pleasure among the mutton-bones, like a bug in a rug,--and was making apparently a last, despairing attack upon Moses' cautious money-bags; but Moses held firmly to the decision: "Really and truly, Herr Baron, I can not. Now, why not, then? Why should I not? I can still serve you, I can still serve you well in the business. See, Herr Baron, there stands David. David where are you, what are you staring at? Come here, David. You see, Herr Baron, there he stands,--he stands before you and he stands before me. I will not wink, I will not blink, I will go into the other room; now you may ask David." And with that, he shoved himself with his right suspender-shoulder, back into the room.
The poor lieutenant's business must stand a bad chance if he had to settle it with David, for if he looked in his shining uniform as if he were riding before the king's carriage, David's outside looked as shabby as if he had been in the marl and dirt-cart. But this business depended less on a stately outside, than on who could best get the cart out of the mud, and at that David was terribly expert. He had three things in and about himself which stood him in good stead; in the first place he had a particularly gorgeous Jew-lubber face, and as he stood there before the lieutenant, and chewed cinnamon-bark, which he stole out of his mother's pantry, on account of the evil odor of the business, and with his head askew, and his hands in his pockets, stared at him, he looked as impudent as if the spirits of all the dead and gone rats, through the long years of the produce business, had entered into him; and then, in the second place, his feelings were tough, much tougher than his father's, and they were not softened by his daily intercourse with the toughest business in the world, with wool, and hides, and flax; and, thirdly, he could make himself as repulsive as he pleased to any one, thanks to this same business.
With such a happily gifted being, the lieutenant could not pull at the same rope. He went very shortly, with a heavy heart, out of the door; and David was so rejoiced over his own style and manners, that he became really compassionate, and he gave him on his way the Christian advice that he should go to the Notary Slusuhr. "He has it," said he, "and he can do it."
Scarcely was the young man out of the door, when Moses sprang out of the room; "David, have you a conscience? I will tell you some news; you have none! How could you send that young man among those cut-throats?"
"I have only sent him to his own people," said David, churlishly; "if he is a soldier, he is a cut-throat himself. If the notary cuts his throat, what do you care? And if he cuts the notary's throat, what do I care?"
"David," said the old man, and shook his head, "I say, you have no conscience."
"What is a conscience?" muttered David to himself; "when you are doing business, you drive me away; when you won't do business, you call me in."
"David," said the old man, "you are still too young!" and went into the room.
"If I am too young now," said David spitefully, "I shall always be too young; but I know a place where I am not too young."
With that, he put on another coat, and went the same way that the lieutenant had gone, to the Notary Slusuhr's.
What he had to do there, and what else was done there, I know not. I know merely that the young Herr von Rambow, the same evening at Pumpelhagen, wrote a number of letters, and sealed up money in them; and that when he had finished, he sighed deeply, as if he had thrown off a burden. The first necessity was met; but he had done like the old woman in the story, he had heated water in the kneading-trough.
A couple of days later, the sun looked down in the morning right out of a rain-cloud, over the landlord's garden at Gurlitz. Her daughter, the Earth, had been having a great washing, and now she would help her dear child a little with the drying. It was, as it is always, a great pleasure to see the old mother settle herself to the task, and with her broad, friendly face peer out, now here, now there, from the white cloud-curtain, and again grasp the sprinkler, to dampen the bleached clothes a little more. On such an occasion she was always very sportive; she had the drollest fancies, and played as many tricks in her old age as the youngest girl, when she is beloved for the first time,--now she was sad enough to cry, and again she laughed heartily.
To-day, moreover, the old woman had reason to laugh, as she looked down into the Gurlitz garden. "Now, just look there!" cried she, and smiled right goldenly over the meadow and the green corn, "how strangely things go on in this crazy world! For long years I have always seen down there that pretty, white fellow standing, and holding out a staff to me, that the poor hungry creatures of the human race might be able to know when it was mid-day, and time for their dinners; and now there stands in his place a stout, malicious-looking beast, with green breeches, smoking tobacco. Nowhere do things go on so strangely as in the world!" And with that the old woman laughed from the bottom of her heart over the landlord Herr Pomuchelskopp, who stood in his yellow nankeen coat and green plaid trowsers, by the sun-dial, in the very place where the handsome heathen god, Apollo, had stood, only instead of a lyre he had a short pipe in his hand; and yet a shadow often passed over her face when her eyes fell on her handsome, friendly secretary, who had for so many years recorded her doings with his pencil, and now lay among burdocks and nettles in the grass. But she had to laugh again, for all that.
Pomuchelskopp laughed also; there were no indications of mirth in his face, but, whenever, from the height which his short stature allowed, he looked around him, he laughed in his heart: "All mine! All mine!" The sunbeam which brightened the world was not noticed by him, it touched neither his face nor his heart; the sunbeam which shone for him was properly a sum in arithmetic, which warmed his heart, but there were no signs of it in his face; there must be a joke, an actual joke, to make him laugh outwardly, and that was not wanting at the present moment.
His two youngest children, Nanting and Philipping, had come out, and Philipping had made a rod of burdocks and nettle stalks tied together, and was flogging the poor, white heathen god, so that Father Pomuchelskopp laughed heartily; and Nanting ran into the kitchen and brought a coal, to give him a pair of moustaches, but his father would not allow this. "Nanting," said he, "let that go, it might disfigure him, and we may possibly be able to sell him yet. But you may beat him,"--and they did beat him, and Father Pomuchelskopp laughed as if he would shake himself out of his green trowsers.
Meanwhile the "Madam" also walked out, the dryer half of Pomuchelskopp. She was of an extremely tall figure, and as dry as the seven lean kine of King Pharaoh. Her eyebrows were always puckered up into wrinkles, as if the cares of the whole world weighed o'er her mind, or her forehead was drawn into peevish lines above her nose, as if all the crockery broken by the maid-servants in this world, during a whole year, had belonged to her; and her mouth looked as sour as if she had drank vinegar and fed on sorrel all her days. She wore in the morning at this warm season of the year, a black merino over-sack, which she had once bought in a time of mourning and still wore; and through the day, cotton garments dyed olive-green with alder-bark, and to make up for the extravagance of Pomuchelskopp's new blue dress-coat with bright buttons, she bundled up her head with old bandages and caps, out of which her anxious face peered like a half-starved mouse out of a bunch of tow; and about the rest of her body she heaped one old thing above another, till her poor little legs looked like a couple of pins lost in a bundle of rags. However, I would advise every servant to keep out of her way, for even when her poor bones flew around frivolously on velvet and silken wings, her troubled soul was anxiously reckoning the expense and the wearing out.
She was such a mother as one reads of in books,--she planned day and night how she might make over Malchen's coat into an under-jacket for Philipping; she loved her children according to the Scriptures, and chastened them in like manner, and Nanting could often show for one spot on his jacket two on his back, and for every one on his trousers two on the flesh they covered. Yes, she was strong against herself and against her own flesh and blood, but she could rejoice also, according to the scriptures, with moderation; and, as she came out to-day, and saw the joyous activity of her youngest offspring, there flew over her face such a hopeful light as when the February sun looks down on the fast-frozen soil, and says, "Patience! there will be a good crop of potatoes here this year."
And she was also such a wife as one reads of in books; no neighbor could charge her with neglecting her duties a hair's breadth in thought, word or deed, all her days, although Pomuchelskopp was in her opinion quite light-minded, because often when joking was going on he would laugh right out loud, which she thought unbecoming in the father of a family, and she feared he would at length ruin his fortunes and bring herself and her children to beggary. She did another thing, which the minister had not inculcated at her betrothal,--she condemned his failings, and gave him daily of her own vinegar to drink and of her sorrel to eat. She tutored him--that is to say when they were alone--as she did her youngest child, her Philipping, and as if Pomuchelskopp still wore his green plaid trousers fastened behind; in short, she drove him just as she pleased. She did not beat him--God forbid! all was with dignity. Merely by her manner of speaking, she knew how to express her opinion of him: if he was unusually frivolous, she called him sharply and shortly by the last syllable of his name, just "Kopp!" ordinarily she called him by the middle syllable, "Muchel," and when he was quite after her own heart, and sat sulkily in the sofa-corner striking at the flies, she called him by the first syllable, and in an affectionate tone, "Pöking."
She did not call him "Pöking" to-day. "Kopp!" said she, on account of his light-minded behavior with the children, "Kopp, why do you stand there smoking like a chimney? I think we should call at the Pastor's."
"My Klücking," said Pomuchelskopp, reluctantly taking the pipe from his mouth, "we can go. I will put on my dress-coat directly."
"Dress-coat! Why so? Do you think I shall dress up in black silk? It is only our Pastor." She emphasized the "our," as if she had spoken of her shepherd, and as if she considered the Pastor merely their hired servant.
"Just as you please, my Häuhning," said Pomuchelskopp, "I can put on my brown overcoat. Philipping, let the beating go; Mama doesn't like it."
"Kopp! let the children alone, attend to yourself. You can keep on your nankeen coat, it is clean and good."
"My Klücking," said Pomuchelskopp, "always noble, my dear Klücking! If we owe nothing to the Pastor's family, we owe something to ourselves. And, if Malcheh and Salchen are going too, they must dress themselves up, and then we will set out."
This argument gained Pomuchelskopp the permission to array himself in his brown overcoat. He was so rejoiced at having carried his point, a thing which did not often happen, that in his gratitude he desired to confer some pleasure upon his Klücking, and make her a sharer in his own satisfaction; for no one must do Pomuchelskopp the injustice to suppose that he was overbearing in his own house,--no! there he was rather humble and depressed. He pointed, therefore, across the fields and said, "Just look, that is all ours!"
"Muchel, you point too far," said the lady shortly; "all that over yonder belongs to Pumpelhagen."
"You are right, that is all Pumpelhagen. But"--he added, and the little eyes looked greedily towards Pumpelhagen, "who knows? If God spares my life, and I sell my property in Pomerania at a good bargain, and times continue good, and the old Kammerrath dies, and his son gets into debt----"
"Yes, Muchel," interrupted his wife, and across her face flitted that derisive gleam, which was the only approach to a smile ever seen on it, "yes, just as old Strohpagel said: 'If I were ten years younger, and hadn't this lame leg, and hadn't a wife--you should see what a fellow I would be!'"
"Häuhning," said Pomuchelskopp, making a face as if he were grieved to the heart, "how can you talk so? As if I wished to be rid of you! Without the thirty thousand dollars, which your father left you, I never could have bought Gurlitz. And what a fine estate Gurlitz is! See! this is all Gurlitz!" and he pointed again over the fields.
"Yes, Kopp," said his wife, in a hard tone, "all but the Pastor's field, which you have let slip out of your fingers."
"Ah, Klücking," said Pomuchelskopp, as they left the garden, "always the Pastor's field! what can I do? See, I am an honest, straight-forward man; what can I do against such a pair of sly old fellows as Habermann and the Pastor? But the day is not over yet, Monsieur Habermann! We shall have something to say to each other yet, Herr Pastor!"
At the Pastor's house, this morning, three pretty little girls were sitting in the Frau Pastorin's neat parlor, busy as bees, their fingers sewing and their tongues chatting at the same time, and looking, amid the white linen, as fresh and red as ripe strawberries on a white plate; these were Louise Habermann and the little twins, Mining and Lining Nüssler.
"Children," said the little, round Frau Pastorin, as she now and then looked in from the kitchen, "you cannot think what a pleasure it is to one in my old age, when I put away my clean linen in the linen-trunk, and think with every piece when it was spun and when it was sewed! And how prudent it makes one, to know for oneself how much pains it has cost! Mining, Mining, your seam is crooked! Good heavens, Louise! I believe you are looking off half the time, yet you sew right along, and get no knots in your thread. But now I must go and take up the potatoes, for my Pastor will be here soon," and with that she ran out of the door, looking back, however, to say, "Mining and Lining, you must stay here to dinner to-day!" And so she flew from the kitchen to the parlor, and from the parlor back to the kitchen, like the pendulum of a clock, and kept everything in running order.
But how came Lining and Mining Nüssler to be in the Frau Pastorin's sewing-school? It happened in this way.
When the little twins had got so far that they could speak the "r" plainly, and no longer played in the sand, and ran after Frau Nüssler all day long, saying, "Mother, what shall we do now?" then Frau Nüssler said to young Jochen that it was high time the children went to school; they must have a governess. Jochen had no objections, and his brother-in-law, the Rector Baldrian, undertook the task of procuring one. When she had been six months at Rexow, Frau Nüssler said she was a cross old thing, she scolded the little girls from morning to night and made them so skittish that they did not know how to behave; she must go. Thereupon Kaufman Kurz looked up another; and one day, when nobody in Rexow dreamed of impending evil, a sort of grenadier walked in at the door, with heavy black eyebrows, and sallow complexion, and with spectacles on her nose, and announced herself as the new "governess." She began to talk French to the little twins, and as she observed that the poor little creatures were so ignorant that they could not understand her in the least, she turned, in the same language, to young Jochen. Such a thing had never happened to young Jochen in his life; he let his pipe fall from his mouth, and as they were drinking coffee he said, in order to say something, "Mother, ask the new school-ma'am to take another cup."
This one was a "governess" over the whole house, and Frau Nüssler stood it bravely for a while; but finally she said, "Stop! This won't do; if anybody is to command here it is I, for I am the nearest, as Frau Pastorin says;" and she gave the grenadier her marching orders. Then uncle Bräsig offered his assistance, and engaged a teacher,--"A smart one," he said, "always in good spirits, and she can play you dead on the harpsichord." He was right; one evening in the winter, there arrived at Rexow a little blue-cheeked, hump-backed body, who, after the first ten minutes, attacked the new piano, which Jochen had bought at auction, and belaboured it as if she were threshing wheat. When she had gone to bed, young Jochen opened the piano, and when he saw that three strings were broken, he shut it up again, and said, "Yes, what shall we do about it?"
There were lively times in the house now; the girl-governess ran and romped with the little girls, until Frau Nüssler came to the conclusion that her oldest, Lining, had really more sense than the mamselle. She wished to inform herself how the mamselle managed the children in school-hours; she requested, therefore, to be shown a plan of their studies, and the next day Lining brought her a great sheet of paper with all the "branches" marked out. There was German and French, Orthography and Geography, and Religion, and Biblical History, and other History, and also Biblical Natural History, and then to conclude with, music, and music, and music.
"Eh!" said Frau Nüssler to Jochen, "she may teach them all the music she wants to, for all me, if the religion is only of the right sort. What do you say, Jochen?"
"Yes," said Jochen, "it is all as true as leather!"
Well, she might have stayed, if Lining had not let out, accidentally, that mamselle played jack-stones with them in the Biblical History; and as Frau Nüssler heard one day, during the "Religion" hour, such a romping in the school-room that she opened the door suddenly, to see what kind of religion was going on, behold! Mamselle was playing "Cuckoo" with the children. Madam Nüssler could not approve of this lively sort of religion, so Mamselle "Hop-on-the-hill" hopped after the grenadier.
It was very inconvenient, because it was now the middle of the fourth quarter, and if Frau Nüssler complained that the children were running wild, Jochen only said; "Yes, what shall I do about it?" But he began to study the Rostock "Times" with uncommon interest; and one day he laid aside the "Times," and ordered Christian to get out the "phantom." His good wife was considerably astonished, for she had no idea what he was thinking of; but as she looked at the pipe side of his face, and noticed that his mouth was stretched wider than usual, which represented a friendly smile, she gave herself no more anxiety, and said, "Let him go! He has something good in his head."
After three days Jochen returned with an elderly, almost transparent-looking lady, and it went through the whole region like a running fire: "Only think! young Jochen has got a governess himself."
Bräsig came the next Sunday to see her; he was tolerably contented with her, "But," said he, finally, "look out, young Jochen, she has nerves."
Bräsig was not only a good judge of horses, but a judge of human nature; he was right,--Mamselle was nervous, very nervous indeed. The poor little twins went about on tiptoe, Mamselle took away Lining's ball, because she had accidentally thrown it at the window, and locked up the piano, so that Lining could no longer play, "Our cat has nine kittens," the only piece which she had learned from Mamselle "Hop-on-the-hill." Before long Mamselle added cramps to her nerves, and Madam Nüssler must run with sundry bottles of "drops," and both Fika and Corlin must sit up with her nights, because either one alone would be afraid. "Send her away," said uncle Bräsig; but Frau Nüssler was too good for that, she sent rather for the doctor. Dr. Strump was summoned from Rahnstadt, and after examining the patient, he pronounced it a very interesting case, the more so that he had lately been studying "the night-side of Nature."
Young Jochen and his wife thought nothing worse from that than that the doctor had lately been a good deal out of his bed o' nights, but he meant something quite different.
One day, when the doctor was with the mamselle, Corlin called from the stairs:--
"Frau, Frau! there is mischief going on. The doctor has been stroking her over her face, and now she is asleep, and talking in her sleep. She told me I had a lover."
"God bless me!" cried Bräsig, who happened to be there, "what sort of business is the woman carrying on?" and he went up-stairs with Frau Nüssler. After a while he came down, and asked, "Now, what do you say to, it young Jochen?"
Jochen reflected awhile, and then said, "Yes, that doesn't help the matter, Bräsig."
"Jochen," said Bräsig, going up and down the room with great strides, "I said to you before, 'send her away;' now I say, don't send her away. I asked her if it would rain to-morrow, and she said to me, in her somnambulic state, that it would rain torrents. If it rains torrents to-morrow, then take down your barometer from the wall,--barometers are of no use, and yours has stood there two years, always at fair weather,--and hang her up there; you can benefit yourself and the whole region."
Young Jochen said nothing, but when next morning it rained torrents, he was silent indeed, and his astonishment kept him dumb for three days.
The rumor spread in the neighborhood, that young Jochen had a fortune-teller at his house, and that she had prophesied the great rain on Saturday, and also that Corlin Kräuger and Inspector Bräsig would be married within a year. Dr. Strump naturally did his share toward setting this interesting case in a clear light, and it was not long before Frau Nüssler's quiet house became a kind of pilgrim's shrine, to which resorted all who were curious, or scientific, or interested in physical science; and, because Frau Nüssler would have nothing to do with it, and Jochen was incapable, Zachary Bräsig undertook the business, when the doctor was not there, and ushered troops of visitors into the mamselle's room, and explained her somnambulic condition; and before the bed, by the mamselle, sat Christian the coachman, who was not afraid of the devil himself, for Corlin and Fika would no longer watch by her, even in the day time, having taken it into their heads that she was not respectable; because they translated Bräsig's expression, "sonnenbuhlerisch" (somnambulic), into Platt-Deutsch, and said the mamselle was "sünnenbuhlerisch" (no better than she should be).
Among the visitors, who came to see this wonder, was the young Baron von Mallerjahn of Gräunenmur, who came daily to investigate the physical sciences and thought no harm of going into mamselle's room without Bräsig. Frau Nüssler was disturbed by the impropriety of the thing, and requested Jochen to put a stop to the nuisance, upon which Jochen replied that they might put Christian up there; but when Christian came down one day, and said the Herr Baron had sent him away, because he smelled too strong of the stable, then Frau Nüssler's annoyance broke out in a flood of tears, and, if Bräsig had not arrived just then, she would herself have treated the Herr Baron to a scolding; but Bräsig, like a true knight, took the business upon himself.
He went up-stairs, and said very courteously and decidedly, "Gracious Herr Baron, will you have the kindness to step the other side of the door for a moment."
It was possibly too fine for the Herr Baron's comprehension, he laughed rather confusedly, and said he stood for the moment in magneticrapportwith the mamselle.
"Monetic apport!" said Bräsig. "We need none of your money here, and none of your apporters either; Christian was put here on purpose to prevent such doings."
Bräsig himself stood in magneticrapport, without being conscious of it, for when Frau Nüssler wept he fell into a passion, and in great wrath he cried to the baron, "Herr, be off with you, out of the house!"
The baron was naturally astonished at this speech, and inquired rather haughtily whether Bräsig was aware that he was growing rude.
"Do you call that rudeness?" cried Bräsig, taking the baron by the arm. "Then I will show you something else!"
But the disturbance awoke the mamselle out of her sleep; she sprang from the sofa and grasped the baron by the other arm: she wouldn't stay here, nobody here understood her, he alone understood her, she would go with him.
"The best thing you can do," said Bräsig. "Don't let us detain you! Two birds with one stone!" and he assisted her down stairs.
The carriage of the Herr Baron was all ready, and drove up to the door; the Herr Baron himself was in great perplexity, but the mamselle held fast.
"Yes, there's no help for it," said young Jochen, as he watched their departure.
"Young Jochen," said Bräsig, as the equipage left the yard, "she is like leather, she is tough. And you, madam," said he to Frau Nüssler, "let the man go, now he can see as much as he likes of his monetic treasure."
Habermann had been absent a good deal of late, on business for his master, and, when he came home for a day or two, he had so much to attend to on the estate that he could not trouble himself about other people's affairs. He had been at his sister's however, and had comforted her about the mamselle, that it was merely sickness and would pass over; but as he came home this time, the report was all over the neighborhood that young Jochen's sleeping mamselle had gone off with the Baron von Mallerjahn, but that she had previously infected Bräsig with prophesying, and Christian with sleeping. Bräsig prophesied wherever he went, and Christian fell asleep even on his feet.
Habermann went to Pastor Behrens, and inquired what he knew of the story, and asked him to go with him to his sister's.
"Willingly, dear Habermann," said the Pastor; "but I have not troubled myself much about this matter, for good reasons. I know very well that in our good fatherland many of my brethren in Christ have occupied themselves in healing the possessed, and casting out devils; but I think such cases belong rather to the department of the physician, or"--with a rather peculiar laugh--"to that of the police."
When they came to Rexow, the cheerful, active Frau Nüssler, who could usually shake off easily the worst misfortune, or the most annoying vexation, seemed quite another person.
"Herr Pastor," said she, "Brother Karl, that crazy woman has gone, and I had trouble enough about her, and so have they all gone, that I have had; but that is no matter, I shall get over that. What troubles me is my poor little girls, who know nothing and learn nothing. And when I think how the poor little dears will seem among their elders and equals like a couple of fools, knowing nothing that is talked about, and not even knowing how to write a letter--no, Herr Pastor, you, who have learned so much, you cannot know how one feels, but I know, and, Karl, you can understand it too. No, Herr Pastor, even though my heart should break, and I should go about alone with Jochen in this great house, like one in a dream, I will give up my little girls to go away to school, rather than have them remain stupid all their lives. You see, when Louise comes here, she is intelligent; one can talk with her, and she can read the newspaper to Jochen. Min can read too, but if she comes to a strange word, she begins to stammer. For instance the other day Louise read 'Burdoh,' and the place is called so,--and Min read 'Bo-ur-de-aux.' What is the good of 'Bo-ur-de-aux,' when the city is called 'Burdoh?'"
The Pastor had risen during this speech, and walked thoughtfully about the room; at last he came to a stand before Frau Nüssler, looked at her observantly and said, "My dear neighbor, I will make you a proposition. Louise is a little more advanced, to be sure, but that makes no difference; you shall not be separated from your little ones,--let me instruct them."
Frau Nüssler had never thought of such an offer, and it seemed to her like drawing the great prize in the lottery, or as if she had stepped out of shadow into sunshine. She stared at the Pastor with her wide-open, blue eyes; "Herr Pastor!" she cried, springing up from her chair, "Jochen, Jochen, did you hear? The Herr Pastor offers to teach the children himself."
Jochen had heard, and was also on his feet, trying to say something; he said nothing, however, only fumbled and grappled for the Herr Pastor's hand, until he grasped it, then pressed it warmly, and drew him to the sofa, behind the supper table, which was spread; and when Frau Nüssler and Habermann had fully expressed their pleasure, he also had become capable of expression, and said, "Mother, pour out a cup for the Herr Pastor."
So Mining and Lining were now daily guests at the Gurlitz parsonage. They were as clearly a pair of twins as ever; only that Lining as the eldest was perhaps half an inch taller than Mining, and Mining was a good half inch larger round the waist, and--if one looked very closely--Mining's nose was a trifle shorter than Lining's.
And so on the day when Pomuchelskopp set out to make his first call at the parsonage, the twins were in the Frau Pastorin's sewing-school, for the Frau Pastorin also meant to do her duty by the children, when the Pastor was occupied with the business of his calling.
"God bless me!" exclaimed the Frau Pastorin, running into the room, "children put your work aside; take it all into the bedroom, Louise; Mining, pick up the threads and scraps; Lining, you put the chairs in order! Here come our new landlord with his wife and daughters, across the church-yard, right up to the house,--and, bless his heart! my Pastor has gone to Warnitz to a christening!" And she grasped unconsciously her duster, but had to lay it aside directly, for there was a knock at the door, and upon her "Come in!" Pomuchelskopp with his wife and his two daughters, Malchen and Salchen, entered the room.
"They did themselves the honor," said Pomuchelskopp, endeavoring to make a graceful bow, which on account of his peculiar build was rather a failure, "to wait upon the Herr Pastor, and the Frau Pastorin--acquaintance--neighborhood----"
Frau Pomuchelskopp stood by, as stiff and stately as if she had that morning been plated with iron, and Malchen and Salchen, in their gay silk dresses, stared at the three little maidens in their clean cotton garments, like a goldfinch at a hedge-sparrow.
The Frau Pastorin was the most cordial person in the world, to her friends; but when she met strangers, and her Pastor was not present to speak for himself, she took his dignity also upon her shoulders. She drew herself up to her full height, looking as round and full as a goose on the spit, and with every word that she spoke the cap ribbons under her little double chin wagged back and forth with a dignified air, as if they would say, "Nobody shall take precedence of me!"
"The honor is quite on our side," said she. "Unfortunately my Pastor is not at home. Won't you sit down?" and with that she seated the two old Pomuchelskopps on the sofa, under the picture-gallery.
Meanwhile, as the older people were discussing indifferent topics with an appearance of interest, as the custom is, and now one and now another advancing opinions to which the rest could not assent, Louise went, in a friendly way, as was proper, to the two young ladies, and shook hands with them, and the little twins followed her example, as was also proper.
Now Malchen and Salchen were just eighteen and nineteen years old. They were not handsome; Salchen had a gray, pimpled complexion, and Malchen, though she was not to blame for it, bore too striking a resemblance to her father. But they wereeducated--save the mark! and had recently attended the Whitsuntide fair and Trinity ball, at Rostock, so there was really a great difference between them and the little girls, and since they were not very kindly disposed, they looked rather coldly on the little maidens.
These, however, either did not notice it, or took it as a matter of course that their advances should be received with coolness, and Louise said with great admiration to Malchen, "Ah, what a beautiful dress you have on!"
Even an educated young lady might be pleased at that, and Malchen became a little more friendly, as she said, "It is only an old one; my new one cost, with the trimming and dress-making, all of ten dollars more."
"Papa gave them to us for the Trinity ball. Ah, how we danced there!" added Salchen.
Now Louise had heard in sermons about Sundays before and after Trinity, but of a Trinity ball she knew nothing; in fact she had no definite conception of a ball itself, for though the Frau Pastorin in her youth had taken pleasure like other people, and had occasionally set foot in a ball-room, yet, out of consideration for her present dignified position, she always answered Louise's questions what a ball was like,--"Mere frivolity!"
As for Lining and Mining they would have known nothing of balls, for though their mother danced in her younger days, it was merely at harvest feasts, and young Jochen had indeed once gone to a ball, but upon reaching the door of the saloon he was so frightened that he beat a retreat,--but Uncle Bräsig's descriptions had given the children a confused idea of many white dresses with green and red ribbons, of violins and clarionettes, of waltzes and quadrilles, and many, many glasses of punch. And as Uncle Bräsig had described it all, he had also given an illustration, with his short legs, of the sliding step, and the hop step, so that they laughed prodigiously; but what a "ball," such a ball as the last governess had taken away from Mining, had to do with it all, they had never comprehended. So Mining asked quite innocently, "But, if you dance, how do you play with a ball?"
Mining was a thoughtless little girl, and she should not have asked such a question; but, considering her youth and inexperience, the Misses Pomuchelskopp need not have laughed quite so loud as they did.
"Oh dear!" cried Salchen, "that is too stupid!"
"Yes, good gracious! so very countrified!" said Malchen, and drew herself up in a stately attitude, as if she had lived under the shadow of St. Peter's tower in Rostock from her babyhood, and the first burgomeister of the city had been her next door neighbor.
Poor little Mining turned as red as a rose, for she felt that she must have made a great blunder, and Louise grew red also, but it was from anger. "Why do you laugh?" she cried hastily, "why do you laugh because we know nothing about balls?"
"See, see! How excited!" laughed Malchen. "My dear child----"
She went no further in her wise speech, being interrupted by hasty words from the group on the sofa.
"Frau Pastorin, I say it is wrong; I am the owner of Gurlitz, and if the Pastor's field was to be rented----"
"It was my Pastor's doing, and the Kammerrath is an old friend, and one of our parishioners, and the field joins his land as well as it does yours, and Inspector Habermann----"
"Is an old cheat," interrupted Pomuchelskopp.
"He has already done us an injury," added his wife.
"What?" cried the little Frau Pastorin, "what?"
But her dear old heart thought in a minute of little Louise, and she overcame her anger, and began to wink and blink. It was too late; the child had heard her father's name, had heard the slander, and stood now before the arrogant man, and the cold, hard woman.
"What is my father? What has my father done?"
Her eyes shot fiery glances at the two who had spoken evil of her father, and the young frame which up to this time had known constant peace and joy, quivered with passion.
People tell us that sometimes the fair, still, green earth trembles, and fire and flame burst forth, and showers of gray ashes bury the dwellings of men, and the temples of God. It seemed to her that a beautiful temple, in which she had often worshipped, had been buried under gray ashes, and her grief broke forth in streaming tears, as her good foster-mother put her arms around her, and led her from the room.
Muchel looked at his Klücking, and Klücking looked at her Muchel; they had got themselves into trouble. It was quite another thing from having one of his laborer's wives come to him, in tears, and a pitiful tale of sorrow and distress--he knew what to do in such cases; but here he had no occasion for reproaches or advice, and, as he glanced about him in his confusion, and saw upon the wall the hands of Christ stretched out in blessing, it seemed to him that the flashing eyes of Louise had turned appealingly toward them, and he remembered how Christ had said, "Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven." He did not feel exactly comfortable.
His brave Klücking also, was quite disturbed. She had heard her own children screaming many a time under her vigorous discipline, but this was a different matter; Malchen and Salchen had often shot fire from their eyes, and stamped their feet, but this was a different matter. She recovered herself soon, however, and said,--
"Kopp, don't make such a stupid face! What did she say about her father? Is Habermann her father?"
"Yes," answered Mining and Lining, through their tears, "that is Louise Habermann." And they followed their little friend into the next room, to cry with her; for though they did not know how deeply her heart was wounded, they reckoned themselves one with her, in joy and sorrow.
"I did not know that," said Pomuchelskopp; the very words he had used years before, when Habermann's wife lay in her coffin.
"A foolish girl!" said his Häuhning. "Malchen and Salchen, come, we will go; the Pastor's wife won't come back again."
And so they went off, like the year 1822, of which Häuhning represents the 1, on account of her leanness, and because she would always be number 1, Pomuchelskopp the 8, on account of his size and rotundity, and the two daughters the two figure 2's,--for such a 2 always looks to me like a goose swimming on the water.
As they stepped out of the door, the Pastor was just returning from his duties at Warnitz, and had brought Uncle Bräsig home with him. He knew by their appearance that they had been making a ceremonious visit, and sprung hastily from the carriage, that he might be in time for a part of it.
"Ah, good day! How do you do? But," he added in surprise, "where is my wife?"
"She went off and left us," said Frau Pomuchelskopp, stiffly.
"Eh, there must be some mistake! Do come in again, I shall be back directly," and he ran into the house.
Meanwhile Bräsig had gone up to his old comrade Pomuchelskopp: "Good day, Zamel, how are you?"
"Thank you, Herr Inspector, very well," was the reply.
Bräsig elevated his eyebrows, looked him square in the face, and whistled square in his face. If Frau Pomuchelskopp wished to make him a courtesy, she might do so, but only to his back, for he turned about and went into the house.
"Come, Kopp," said she sharply, and the procession moved off.
As the pastor entered the house, he found nobody there; he went through into the garden, and called, and it was not long before he saw the little twins sitting under a raspberry hedge, with red eyes, and they pointed to the birch-tree arbor, with anxious looks, as if to say he must go there if he would find out what the trouble was. He went to the arbor, and there sat his Regina, with the child in her lap, trying to comfort her. When she saw her Pastor, she put the child gently down on the bench, drew him out of the arbor, and told him the matter.
Pastor Behrens listened in silence; but as his wife repeated the wicked word that the Herr Landlord had used, there flashed over his intelligent, quiet face a look of bitter anger, and then his clear eyes shone with the deepest compassion. He said to his wife that she might go in, and he would speak to the child. So it had come at last! his lovely flower had been pierced by a poisonous worm; the pitiless world had grasped this soft, pure heart with its hard, coarse hand, and the finger-marks could never be effaced; now it had entered upon the great, never-ending struggle, which is fought out here on earth until hearts cease to beat. It must come, yes, it must come, he knew that well enough; but he knew also that the greatest art of one who would train a human soul lies in keeping away, as long as possible, the hard hand from the tender heart, until that also had become harder, and then, if the evil grip should be even worse, the black fingers will not leave such deep marks upon the heart, until then innocent of the never-ending struggle. He went into the arbor. Thou art still happy, Louise; well is it for one who in such an hour is blessed with a faithful friend!
Frau Pastorin, meanwhile, went into the parlor, and found Bräsig. Bräsig, instead of sitting down on the comfortable sofa, under the picture-gallery, or at least in a reasonable chair, had seated himself on a table, and was working like a linen-weaver, in his excitement over Pomuchelskopp's ceremonious behavior. "There you see me, there you have me!" he cried angrily. "The Jesuit!" As the Frau Pastorin came in, he sprang from his table, and cried,--
"Frau Pastorin, what should you say of anybody you had known forty years, and you meet him, and you speak to him, and he calls you "Sie?"[1]
"Ah, Bräsig----"
"That is what Pomuchelskopp has done to me."
"Let the man alone! He has done worse mischief here;" and she related what had happened.
Bräsig was angry, exceedingly angry, over the injury which he had received, but when he heard this he was angry beyond measure; he stormed up and down the room, and made use of language for which the Frau Pastorin would have reproved him severely, had she not been very angry herself; at last he thrust himself into the sofa corner, and sat, without saying a word, looking straight before him.
The Pastor entered, his Regina looked at him inquiringly.
"She is watering the flowers," he said, as if to compose her, and he walked in his quiet way, up and down the room, finally turning toward Bräsig. "What are you thinking of, dear friend?"
"Hell-fire! I am thinking about hell-fire, Herr Pastor!"
"Why of that?" asked the Pastor.
But instead of replying, Bräsig sprang to his feet, and said:
"Tell me, Herr Pastor, is it true that there are mountains that vomit fire?"
"Certainly," said the Pastor.
"And are they good or bad for mankind?"
"The people who live in the neighbourhood consider the eruptions a good thing, because then the earthquakes are not so violent."
"So? so?" said Bräsig, apparently not quite satisfied with the answer. "But it is true, isn't it," he went on, "that such mountains send forth flame and smoke, like a chimney?"
"Something so," said the Pastor, who had not the slightest idea what Bräsig was driving at.
"Well," said Bräsig, stamping with his foot, "then I wish that the devil would take Zamel Pomuchelskopp by the nape of his neck, and hold him over one of those fire-spouting holes till he got his deserts."
"Fie, Bräsig!" cried the little Pastorin, "you are a heathen. How can you utter such an unchristian wish in a minister's house!"
"Frau Pastorin," said Bräsig, going back into the sofa-corner, "it would be a great benefit to mankind."
"Dear Bräsig," said the Pastor, "we must remember that these people used the disgraceful expression without any intention of hurting us."
"It is all one to me," cried Bräsig, "with or without intention. He provoked me with intention, but what he did here without intention was a thousand times worse. You see, Herr Pastor, one must get angry sometimes, and we farmers get angry regularly two or three times a day,--it belongs to the business; but moderately, what I call a sort of farm-boy anger. For example, yesterday I was having the fallow-ground marled, and I had ordered the boys to form a line with their carts. Then I stood in the marl-pit, and all was going nicely. Then, you see, there came that lubber, Christian Kohlhaas,--a real horned-beast of a creature,--there he was with his full cart coming back to the pit. 'You confounded rascal!' said I, 'what under heaven! are you going to bring the marl back again!' Do you believe, that blockhead looked me right in the face, and said he wasn't quite ready to empty the cart, and would go into the line. Well, I was angry, you may be sure; but there are different sorts of anger. This was a proper farm-boy anger, and that kind agrees with me, especially after dinner; but here--I can't scold Pomuchelskopp as I do the farm-boys. It all stays here, I can't get rid of it. And you will see, Frau Pastorin, to-morrow I shall have that cursed gout again."
"Bräsig," said the Frau Pastorin, "will you do me a favour? Don't tell Habermann anything of this."
"Eh, why should I, Frau Pastorin? But I will go to little Louise, and comfort her, and tell her that Samuel Pomuchelskopp is the meanest, most infamous rascal on the face of the earth."
"No, no," said the Pastor, hastily, "let that go. The child will get over it, and I hope all will be well again."
"No? Then good-bye," said Bräsig, reaching for his cap.
"Surely, Bräsig, you will stay to dinner with us?"
"Thank you kindly, Frau Pastorin. There is reason in all things. One must be angry sometimes, to be sure; but better after dinner than before. I had better go and work in the marl-pit; but Christian would do well not to come back today with his full cart to the marl-pit. So good-bye, once more." And with that he went off.